The Batman Casefiles
by Tim Burns
Summary: The author tells his own version of the Batman mythos, from the very beginning. Discover the legend of Batman all over again. [Current Issue: 5.]
1. Issue 1: Enter the Bat, Section 1

**The Batman Casefiles**

**#1**

_July 1, 2003._

_I stepped off of a plane today in Gotham International Airport.  I haven't been in Gotham City for exactly ten years on this day.  I've been to a lot of other places, and I can safely say that I liked them all quite a bit better.  But for ten years, since the moment I set out, I knew I'd be coming back; I knew this day would come.  And now, here it is; Gotham's prodigal son has returned to the city that spawned him.  But now I'm prepared to do a lot more for this city than I would have dreamed possible.  Because the dank, rotted streets of Gotham have spawned another son.  A Bat._

Bruce Wayne, with a laptop computer case slung over his thick, powerful shoulder, stopped to let Alfred Pennyworth catch up.  Alfred, as he always did, insisted on carrying both of their bags.

"I'd really be happy to take those off your hands, Alfred," Bruce said, watching the older man struggle to hold on to them all.

"It's no trouble at all, Sir." Alfred said, with his thick English accent.  Finally he got a firm grasp on all of the luggage, and they began walking away from the gate.  Soon they were intercepted by a man in his fifties.  He wore thick glasses and had gray hair almost lighter than his brown skin.

"Lucius!" Bruce said when he saw him.  Lucius Fox, the acting CEO of Wayne Enterprises, slapped a bear hug on Bruce as his two attendants took the bags from Alfred.

"I haven't seen you in a long time, Son.  It's so good to see you!"

"You too, Lucius."

"Where do you want to go first?  Dinner?"

"I think I'd like to go home."

_I suppose it was overly optimistic to call it 'home.'  I hadn't lived in Wayne Manor for fourteen years.  After my parents died, 'Uncle Lucius,' Dad's vice president, had become my legal guardian, and I had lived with him.  But only for four years.  When I was fourteen, Lucius gave up trying to be the parent he wasn't, and passed me off on Alfred, who was the closest thing I've had to a father these last ten years.  That despite the fact that he insists he's some kind of servant.  Archaically refers to me as "Master Bruce."  Although, that sense of servitude worked in my favor.  I didn't have to convince him to take me all around the world; I told him my plan and he did it._

_But despite his tendency to do what I asked, more like a grandfather than a father, he still was very good at keeping me out of trouble and raising me like my father would have wanted.  I hope my father would have approved of what I'm going to do now._

**Continued…**

**[I hope you liked this story.  Please feel free to review; I accept criticism.  Also read my work on FictionPress.com.]**


	2. Issue 1: Enter the Bat, Section 2

Lucius Fox' limousine pulled up to the front door of the towering Wayne Manor.  As Bruce stepped out, a fairly old woman came running out of the house and hugged Bruce, almost knocking him over.

"Aunt Harriet!" He said, as soon as he recognized her.

"Oh, Bruce, it's so good to see you again," she exclaimed in a high, dripping voice.  "Why, it's been so long!"

"Yeah, it's been quite a long time.  So are you here just to welcome me back?"

"Why, no.  I've been housesitting for almost seven years now.  It's such a big house, and we couldn't bear just leaving it to grow dusty and dingy while nobody lived there.  I just knew you'd come back some time."

"Well, I'm here now," Bruce said, grabbing his computer case.  "Let's go on in."  Bruce walked inside, followed by Aunt Harriet, Alfred, Lucius, and the two men carrying their bags.  As he walked through the anteroom, into the large parlor, almost the first thing he saw was a large painted portrait of his parents, Thomas and Martha Wayne.  Bruce's mother had always thought it wasn't right to have the picture of them there, looming so large above everything.  She didn't like to look at it, but now, Bruce was glad it had stayed.  He looked hard at the painting, and remembered.

_This day, fourteen years ago.  A day I'll never forget.  The last day my parents drew breath on this earth.  I remember it all clearly now; their faces looked just like the do in the portrait.  I was ten years old, then.  It was the first of the month, and we had a tradition in our family, where we did something special on the first of every month.  Almost like celebrating New Year's twelve times instead of just once.  That day Dad decided to take Mom and me to a movie.  We didn't go to movies much, not because we couldn't afford it, certainly that was no issue, but because Dad rarely had time.  He was a busy man, being the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, and besides that, he really didn't like sitting down for long periods of time and not doing anything.  I suppose it was a very great temptation not to take some papers and a flashlight into the theater.  But he resisted the urge, and we all watched the movie together.  I was delighted out of my mind at the movie my dad chose.  'The Sign of Zorro,' featured the usual good performance by Jack Nicholson as the evil Captain, but it was Michael Keaton as Zorro, and Don Diego De La Vega, that absolutely astonished me.  I was only ten years old, certainly very young in many people's minds, but I wasn't too young to be captivated by the way this actor smoothly, seamlessly transitioned between the dark, fierce Zorro, and the noble, yet boring Don Diego._

_I wish I had had more time to enjoy that movie.  We walked out of the movie theater, laughing and enjoying ourselves, when a black sedan drove up, and the back window rolled down.  I heard an incredibly loud popping, rattling sound, as bullets poured out of a gun, held by a man in that car.  And I heard screaming, as many good people were murdered in that sudden instant._

_I was shoved to the ground by one of Dad's bodyguards, and I looked up, hoping to see Dad and Mom standing there, unharmed.  I didn't; instead, I saw a small brown bat flying across the Gotham skyline.  Any other day I would have been mesmerized by the strange creature that had braved the twilight to explore the city.  But that day was different.  I closed my eyes and cried._

_I wasn't like most people who grieved.  That was the last time I cried for my parents.  My thoughts turned to bitterness, and anger.  And like many others, my thoughts turned to revenge.  I put up with the dull life and fractured parenting that Lucius could offer for four years, letting the rage build up inside me.  After that I left; I don't know that Lucius was really sorry to see me go.  Whether he was or not, he let me go.  Alfred became my guardian then, and with his help, from the time I was only fourteen years old, I went all around the world.  I trained, and learned and practiced and worked my body and mind to perhaps an unhealthy level, but a tremendously powerful one.  I learned all the tricks of any trade that could help a crime fighter.  I learned criminology and psychology.  I studied martial arts, and any other form of fighting anyone would teach me.  I learned how to break locks, and tricks of escape artists.  I gained knowledge of science, chemistry and physics.  In ten years, instead of going through a normal teenager's life of high school and dating, I transformed myself into a weapon.  I had one goal; lofty as it seems, it had always been, and still was, the driving force behind my actions.  I had vowed, in the memory of my parents, to fight and eradicate all crime, and see that no child would ever again have to suffer what I went through._

**Continued…**

**[I hope you liked this story.  Please feel free to review; I accept criticism.  Also read my work on FictionPress.com.]**


	3. Issue 1: Enter the Bat, Section 3

That night, after Aunt Harriet had gone to bed, Bruce went downstairs to the study, carrying a large bag behind him, and walked toward a tall grandfather clock.  He pressed a concealed button, and the clock slid away, revealing a locked door.  He took out a key and unlocked it, and then walked down a long flight of stairs, carved out of stone.  At the bottom of the stairs was a giant cavern, with stalagmites and rock formations all around, but a level, even floor carved out.  Halfway across the cave, Alfred was attending to a computer and its very large screen.

"This is amazing, Alfred!" Bruce said, listening as his voice echoed throughout the cavern.  He heard the flutter of bat wings, as the sound disrupted the animals' sleep.  

"A cave filled with bats is certainly fitting for this enterprise, Master Bruce."

"Where'd you get that computer?"

"With the funds, and some technology, of Wayne Enterprises, of course."

Bruce looked around at all of the machines and equipment dotting the ground of the cave.  "How long did all of this take?"  
"Since I left you alone to pursue your fortune when you turned eighteen.  I came back here and have been amassing this collection ever since.  It might have taken less time and effort if your Aunt Harriet hadn't taken up residence.  I've tried most unsuccessfully to convince her to leave.  Still, I managed."

"You managed very well, Alfred.  You've got practically the whole FBI crime lab in here!"

"Well, not quite that much, Sir," Alfred said modestly.  Changing the subject, he walked over to a different area.  "Over here is the equipment section.  You can hang your costumes, and crimefighting tools.  Exactly what equipment you will put here, I leave up to your cognizance."

"Want to see some of it?" Bruce asked, dropping his bag on a table and beginning to pull things out. "This is my utility belt.  I converted it from the design of a World War 2 era Army ammo belt.  These pouches can hold anything from handcuffs to smoke pellets, lock-picking equipment, anything."  Bruce put the belt down and picked up another, much smaller object.  "This is what I call a batarang.  It's based on the design of the Australian boomerang."  
"It's quite a bit smaller than a boomerang, is it not?"  
"Well, yeah," Bruce said, looking a bit sheepish.   "It's not really a boomerang, it just kinda looks like one.  Because of the roughly bat-like design, you can attach a rope to it and throw it, and the prongs on the ends, the bat-wings, as it were, will catch a surface, like a grappling hook.  Or, as it's razor-sharp, you can throw it at someone like a ninja throwing star."

"Very good."

"Yeah, and there's also this gadget," Bruce said taking another item out of the bag, that looked slightly like a gun, but was shorter and had a much wider muzzle.  Attached to the end of the muzzle was another batarang.  "This will fire a batarang and rope with more power and distance than one can generate by hand.  Still, throwing it will generate more accuracy."

"That's quite nice, Sir.  It is refreshing to me to see proof that you haven't grown out of playing with toys."

Bruce smiled only slightly at the joke.  "There are gonna be a lot of criminals who will wish I didn't have these 'toys.'"

"Yes, of course, Sir.  Now, would you like to see the, uh, 'bat-costume,' if I may call it that?  I prepared it exactly to your specifications."

"Yes, thanks, Alfred.  I'd like to see it."  

Alfred stepped behind the equipment area, and pulled out a mannequin dressed in a full-body suit.  The shirt was gray with a black bat-shaped silhouette in the middle of the chest.  The pants were also gray with a blue midsection.  The costume had blue gloves, with bat-wing fins on them, and sturdy blue boots.  On the mannequin's head was a cowl that covered the back of the head, and the face down to the nose, with pointed bat-ears crowning each side.

"I tested the 'Kevlar-lite,' Sir.  It's will be of no help to deflect a bullet fired from within a yard or so, but past that, it deflects bullets almost as well as regular Kevlar.  And the freedom of movement it provides is exponentially greater than traditional Kevlar."  Wayne Enterprises had formulated a material that was referred to in the prototype stage as "Kevlar-lite."  It was not quite as resistant as Kevlar, but was nowhere near as bulky; it was almost as light as cloth.  Wayne Enterprises hadn't released it because of the legal issues of releasing a product so similar to the patented Kevlar, but, naturally, Bruce was able to obtain enough of the material to make three "bat-costumes" out of it.  

"Pardon my asking, Master Bruce." Alfred said, clearing his throat.  "But aren't you worried that the criminals will break out laughing rather than be in horror at the sight of this, uh, dare I say, circus costume?"

"It won't look like a circus costume when it's pitch black and I'm busting heads.  And this cape, see the way it's shaped?  When I'm swinging with that cape flying behind me, it's going to look like a bat's wings."

"Yes, I'm sure you're right, Sir.  Although, may I ask what, erm, inspired you to choose these particular colors?"

"It was back when I was seven years old.  I liked pretending that I was a knight in shining armor, fighting evil.  My mom made a costume for me, with those colors.  I guess the gray is supposed to be armor.  I'd run around outside, pretending to be 'The Caped Crusader.'"  Bruce was about to say more, but stopped.

"She would be very proud of you, Sir.  Of that I am quite sure.  I think she would be honored that you would wear her colors, and I'm terribly sorry that I made light of it."  
"Don't worry about it.  Let's see how this thing fits." Bruce changed into the tight-fitting costume, and did a series of exercises and martial arts moves.

"Does it meet your approval, Master Bruce?"  
"Not Bruce anymore, Alfred," The man behind the cowl said, gravely.  "When I'm wearing this, it's Batman," The thin line of his lips loosened somewhat, as he finished his final exercise.  "But to answer your question, yes, I think it'll do nicely."  Batman took off the heavy cowl one last time, wiped some sweat off of his forehead, and put it back on.  Walking over to a motorcycle parked off in a corner, he pressed a button on his utility belt.  Lenses fell down over the cowl's eyeholes.  "Night-vision works good, too.  Good job, Alfred."

"You are too kind, Sir."

"Enjoy it while it lasts," Batman said, his voice dropping an octave, almost becoming a growling whisper.  "When I come back here, I'll be a different person."  He got on the motorbike and rode away.

**Continued…**

**[I hope you liked this story.  Please feel free to review; I accept criticism.  Also read my work on FictionPress.com.]**


	4. Issue 1: Enter the Bat, Section 4

The motorcycle roared through the cave, and out of a carefully concealed exit.  Within five minutes, Batman was in the seedier part of town.  Known as "Old Gotham," this section of town had been prestigious when Wayne Manor was built, but now was run-down, broken-down and infested with the lowest parts of society.  The gothic designs and architecture, Batman mused, with all the gargoyles and such things sculpted on these old buildings, was the perfect setting for his introduction.  

He hid the motorcycle, and locked in a security system that would sound an alarm in an earphone in his cowl should someone try to steal the bike.  Firing a batarang launcher onto the roof of the nearest building, he quickly scaled it.  He unhooked the batarang from the ledge of the rooftop, and re-wound it back into the launcher.  

Batman scanned the nearby area.  He wasn't looking for any particular crime.  He just needed to face off against somebody, and show himself and everyone else, that what he had vowed the day his parents were killed, he meant.

He saw some movement; people, but he couldn't see it clearly.  He jumped down to a lower building.  He could see them now, dimly in the darkness.  He turned his night-vision lenses back on, having turned them off on the drive through lit streets.

The men on the ground were making an exchange.  As Batman watched further, it was obvious what they were exchanging.  Bruce's blood started to run faster.  He suppressed the feeling, considering himself cold, calculating, and unemotional.  But as he prepared to take down the drug-runners, he was excited.

The money had been passed, and Batman realized he only had minutes before the small crowd would disperse.  He threw a batarang at a building nearby, and tested it to make sure that it had caught and would hold.  Then, he took out a small device from his utility belt, a small speaker/playback machine that played only one sound.  As the Batman swung down from the roof, the criminals on the ground heard a loud, screeching howl.

"What was that?" One of them asked, calm, but slightly disconcerted.

"I don't know," Another, more nervous man said, starting to sweat.  "It was a howl or something, maybe from a wolf or…"

"A bat."  The buyer said, as he turned and saw the silhouette of Batman and his cape, unfurled behind him.  The Batman landed on his feet as the six criminals turned to face him.  Four of them drew guns, but two of them Batman dispatched before they could even think of using them.  

One of the others fired a shot, but Batman easily rolled out of the way.  As he jumped back on his feet, he threw a batarang, which hit the shooter's wrist, and made him drop the gun in pain.  Batman moved to face the other armed gunman, who had managed through shaky nerves, and shakier hands, to squeeze off a shot.  Somehow the hastily aimed bullet found its mark, hitting Batman in the chest.  He groaned as he fell down to the ground.  The attacker found the shadow of a grin, as it seemed he had done in this strange enemy.  

But suddenly the Batman leapt forward.  He grunted, and it sounded like a growl to the criminal, who, dropping his gun, saw the strong man leaping straight at him.  Batman seized the man by the shoulders, and slammed him into a wall.

The other two, unarmed criminals, had begun running away when Batman had gotten up.  Opening another pouch in his belt, Batman withdrew a bolo, and threw at one, causing him to trip.  He grabbed the rope he had swung down on, now taut.  Pushing off a wall, he swung on the rope, and kicked the last fleeing man in the back.  The man yelled in pain and surprise, and then fell to the ground.

Batman walked back to the other criminal, still writhing on the ground.

"What…who…are you?" The man asked, in terror off the dark silhouette, looming like a nightmare above him.  The dark shape replied in a thick, gravelly whisper.

"I'm Batman."

**Batman has risen as Gotham City's new protector, but next month he'll get a taste of what he's up against.  The Red Hood and Boss Zucco may not be the most worry-inspiring names, but they'll give this rookie Batman plenty to worry about.**

**[I hope you liked this story.  Please feel free to review; I accept criticism.  Also read my work on FictionPress.com.]**


	5. Issue 2: Fool Me Once, Section 1

**The Batman Casefiles**

**#2**

_July 12, 2003._

_The Batman has planted his foot firmly in Gotham City.  It's only been a week and a half, but I can already see the effect I'm having.  The fear is starting to spread; when criminals hear the screech of a bat, they cower, and hide.  But it's gonna take more than sound effects to clean up this city.  There are some who are more brazen; they don't fear the night, and they don't fear me.  _

_One criminal in particular comes to mind.  He's begun a crime spree, robbing seemingly random places, about once a week since the middle of June.  His methods, and bravado, almost seem to indicate that, despite his ingenuity in pulling off these crimes, he may well be clinically insane.  He's known as The Red Hood._

A man walked up to the back door of the Apex Cosmetics' laboratory, whistling raucously.  The sound was muffled somewhat by the red hood that covered his mouth and the rest of his head.  Every so often he'd have to stop his whistling to blow cloth out of his mouth.

"Did you take out the night watchman?" The Red Hood asked one of his burly thugs.

"Uh, yeah, we took him out good, Red."

"That's Mr. Hood to you!"  The Red Hood took out some lock picking equipment and began to work on the door.  "Now, let's see.  The frog goes under the log.  No, wait.  The frog jumps over the log and into the pond and catches a fly…oh, I can't remember this!"  A wide grin crossed the Red Hood's face.  "I give up!" With that exclamation, he pulled an explosive out of his pocket and set it on the lock.  Seconds later, it went off.  The Red Hood broke out in laughter.  "Wheeheehee!!!  Plastic explosives are fun!"

"Hey, uh, Mr. Hood, won't the guards hear that?"

"So what if they did, assuming there are any more?  These rubes probably don't even know the number to call 9-1-1.  That's why we're here, because the security isn't good enough to stop us!"

"Well, I mean, it's a big company,"

"No, it's not.  Have you ever heard of the Apex Cosmetics company?"

"I have," the other thug said, stepping forward.  "My girl always uses their Instant Skin Smoothener.  See, her skin's always blotchy red, but it makes her complexion all smooth," the thug stumbled over the big words, but finished despite them.  "With a light, delicate skin tone."

"That's just my point exactly," The Red Hood said, conceitedly.  "What kind of cosmetics company would sell Instant Smoothies?"  He laughed at his own joke.  "Just keep your guns handy.  They shouldn't be a problem."

The Red Hood was right.  As they walked through the building, they didn't see anyone anywhere.  They took the stairs to the second floor and came to the main lab.  

"Top floor, boys," The Red Hood said, "This is where the President's office and safe are.  See what I mean?  What kind of chemical lab would only have two floors?"  He and his two accomplices walked through the room and into another, much larger room.  The only floor was a thin catwalk, stretching over a large vat on the lower level.

"Hey," one thug said, "Look at all dat Instant Skin Smoothener!  My girl would be fixed for life if she could get alla dat!"

"Forget the smoothies.  Across this catwalk is the safe.  But it doesn't look very safe.  Do you think it's strong enough to hold us?" The Red Hood said, hesitantly.

"Sure it is, Mr. Hood," The other thug said, stepping out onto the catwalk.  "See?  No prob."

"Hmm," The Red Hood said, tentatively taking a step forward.  He planted one foot on the catwalk, felt how it supported him, and then put the other foot down on it.  "Hey, this is sturdy."  The Red Hood started jumping on it, making a slight metallic _clang_ each time he landed.  "Hey, look, boys.  Have you ever seen my handstand?"  The Red Hood bent down and then pushed back up, supporting himself with his hands.  His red pinstripe suit fell downward as he began walking on his hands.

"Uh, Mr. Hood, Sir, I don't think—"

"Nonsense, it's perfectly safe," The Red Hood said, laughing, mere seconds before his hand slipped and he fell, plunging into the vat of cosmetics below.  For a long moment the thugs held their breath, wondering if their source of income was dead.  Then the Red Hood came back up to the surface, splashing and spluttering.  With effort, he swam over to a ladder that went back up to the catwalk.  Pulling himself back up, thoroughly soaked, he looked at his two lackeys, saying nothing, and walked into the room with the small safe.  Finding the safe, he expertly opened it.  

As his two thugs were scooping money into a bag, the Red Hood pulled the soggy, oily mask off of his face.  He ran his hand through his hair, and felt that it too was soaked in the cosmetic from the vat he had fallen into.  

"Well, at least it smells good."  The Red Hood noticed that there was a small private bathroom attached to the room he was in.  As the thugs slowly continued to bag their loot, he went in there, hoping he could wash at least some of the stuff off.

He turned on the light, looked in the mirror…and screamed.  He ran back into the office, and when his thugs saw him, they yelled in fright as well.  His face, and the rest of his skin, was bleached a stark bone white, and his formerly auburn hair was a dull green.  After getting over his initial shock, the Red Hood dashed back into the bathroom and looked in the mirror again.  He came out laughing hysterically.

"Ha, ha!  I look like a clown!"

"It'll probably wear off, boss."

"Well, why would I want it to, dimwit?  Give me that deck of cards you have!"

"Look, Mr. Hood, I'm sorry!  Don't make me do da Fifty-Two Card Pickup again."

"You can stop calling me Mr. Hood, both of you," The laughing man said, pulling out one card.  "Sure, The Red Hood has become a household name in the last month, but it's not quite the moniker that will strike fear into the hearts of crimefighters everywhere.  I need something more thematic.  Something that people will really remember.  And thanks to the terrible side effects of taking a bath in that cosmetic what's-it, I can now be called, The Joker!"  The Joker laughed loudly and maniacally.  He threw the card into the safe, and he and his men left the laboratory.

**Continued…**

**[I hope you liked this story.  Please feel free to review; I accept criticism.  Also read my work on FictionPress.com.]**


	6. Issue 2: Fool Me Once, Section 2

_July 20, 2003._

_The Red Hood has become more dangerous than before.  In a recent robbery, he changed his guise from the Red Hood to "the Joker," leaving a playing card Joker in the safe that he robbed.  Witnesses to the theft a few days ago said he had clown make-up on; bright white face paint and a green wig.  He's also made his method of operation more clown-like.  Besides leaving the cards at his crimes, he also uses such things as laughing gas.  The new guise has seemed to fuel his insane and unpredictable behavior.  He must be stopped.  Tonight, I'll go out and see what I can find about the Joker's next robbery.  Unfortunately, in the meantime, Aunt Harriet has set me up on a blind date with a young actress, Julie Madison.  I'm sure she's a nice girl and all, but dating is the least of my worries right now, and I want to keep it that way.  Since the moment I put on the mantle of the Bat, my life has become too complicated to involve a girl.  So, I'll just have to do my best to deter Aunt Harriet's matchmaking._

Alfred stepped on the brake, and Bruce Wayne's limousine slowed to a stop.  Alfred quickly stepped out and opened Bruce's door.

"Thanks, Alfred," Bruce said, getting out.  "You really don't have to do that."  Bruce walked to the door and knocked.  A moment later the door was opened and he saw a young woman, about his age, with shoulder length black hair.  

"Bruce?" she asked.  

"Yeah.  You ready to go?"

"Uh huh," Julie pulled on a coat and walked to the car.  The two of them stood there for an awkward moment, and then Bruce cleared his throat.

"Sorry, he does this some times," he told her.  "Alfred!  Open the lady's door!"

Alfred rocketed out of the car and dashed over to open the door for Julie, who, almost as confused as he, got inside.

"I'm terribly sorry, Sir.  My most distinct apologies," Alfred said meekly as he got back behind the wheel and Bruce also got inside.

"Hmm," Bruce said, pouring himself a glass of wine.  "Sometimes the guy forgets that a gentleman should hold a door open for a lady.  How about that.  Wine?"

_Later that night…_

The date was over, and after hurriedly checking to make sure his aunt was asleep, Bruce hurried down to the Bat-cave, followed closely by Alfred.  Once there, he began putting on his costume.  
"Master Bruce," Alfred said sharply.  "I must insist on speaking to you before you leave."

"Alright, Alfred," Bruce resigned, knowing what was coming.

"I noticed a significant change in your attitude during tonight's excursion.  What, pray tell, was the cause of this behavior?"

"Look at me, Alfred," Bruce said, gesturing at his costume.  He was wearing the complete Bat-costume except for the cowl.  "Does this look like the kind of guy who should be looking for that kind of relationship?"

"Perhaps not, Sir, and yet,"

"Who knows?" Bruce continued, cutting him off.  "I'm only a man.  I could be killed at any moment.  Any day now, you could be attending my funeral."

"Master Bruce, I believe you're being to hard on yourself.  If you weren't completely confidant in your abilities, you would not go out there."

"She'd just get in the way, Alfred, you know that.  There's no place in my life for a woman."

"So you played your Don Diego hoping to dissuade the lady from coming back?"

"Yes."

"I'd caution against doing that further, Master Bruce.  For all your psychology courses, you should know that playing the 'bad boy' would only attract more women.  And besides, deceit will get you nowhere."

"Look at me," Bruce said, frustrated.  "This entire thing is one big deception."

"All the more reason, Sir, that you should make it a point to diminish it elsewhere as much as possible.  Perhaps you've sent one girl away in tears, but it's not to late to salvage your reputation for chivalry and for honesty."

_I know Alfred was right.  There were some lies I was willing to tell in the name of my war on crime, but I realized that this shouldn't be one of them.  I remember something my father once told me about being a gentleman.  When you're young, your dad tells you never to hit a girl.  But mine said that you should never hurt a girl at all; physically or otherwise.  I suppose Julie Madison will forget about tonight pretty quickly, but it's likely that the way I treated her tonight probably did hurt.  In fact, it was designed to.  That's something that my father would never approve of._

**Continued…**

**[I hope you liked this story.  Please feel free to review; I accept criticism.  Also read my work on FictionPress.com.]**


	7. Issue 2: Fool Me Once, Section 3

The Batman perched himself on a gargoyle, waiting.  He knew that the young man would be passing by here soon.  When he saw him, he turned on the bat-howl, and swung down.  The man heard it, and jumped back almost two feet.  Batman landed and approached him slowly.

"Hello, Vinny," He growled.

"I, I didn't do anything, really!" The frightened man tried to back up further.

"I know," Batman said, grabbing him.  "It's what you're gonna do.  You work for the Joker."

"No!"

"Is this your watch?" Batman asked, pulling the item out of his utility belt.

"Yeah, my father gave that to me."

"You dropped it at the Ace Cosmetics lab."

"I've never been there!"

"Of course you have!" Batman roared, yanking Vinny's shirt, pulling him closer.  "Where's the Joker going next?" Batman said, spittle flying into thug's face.

"I don't know!"

Batman's low voice went even lower.  "How hard will I have to jog your brain to make you remember?"

"Please, don't!  Uh, it was a law firm on 16th street.  Johnson, and, uh, Clark, I think."

"Why should I believe you?" Batman asked suspiciously, not relaxing his grip at all.

"If you found out I was lying, you'd hunt me down and hurt me a lot worse."

"You got that right," Batman said, letting the thug go.  "Oh, and Vinny," he said as he prepared to leave.

"Yeah?"

"I wouldn't tell the Joker about this.  I wouldn't hurt you if you did, because there'd be nothing left after he was done with you."  Vinny cowered at the thought as Batman rope-swung away.

**Continued…**

**[I hope you liked this story.  Please feel free to review; I accept criticism.  Also read my work on FictionPress.com.]**


	8. Issue 2: Fool Me Once, Section 4

_July 29, 2003._

_Today, I'll be attending another board meeting of Wayne Enterprises. Although I ruled on the part of honesty in regards to women, I must keep up the deception here. If anyone knew how well I had been educated in the past ten years, they would be more likely to figure out that I was Batman, then if I seemed to be someone without even a high-school education.  I think Lucius would be surprised at all I actually know about business.  I learned a lot from my father when I was younger, and in the course of my training, I've picked up quite a bit of useful information.  But what Lucius is going to see today is quite the opposite._

"…and the merger was a success, yielding a %3.37 increase in Net earnings, as well as a rise in the value of our stocks…"  The meeting had been going on for almost an hour, and as the man droned on with his report, Bruce's eyelids were dropping.  Lucius Fox, sitting beside him, nudged him with an elbow under the table.

"Do _not _fall asleep, Bruce!" He said under his breath, with gritted teeth.  "Pay attention."  The man continued for some time, while Bruce continued to feign trying to stay awake.  

Finally the man finished.  "Any questions?  Mr. Wayne?"

"Yeah," Bruce said, leaning his head on his hand.  "Can we form a merger with Hostess?  I think that all of us could benefit from free Ding-Dongs."

The man looked to Lucius, silently asking what to do.  "Never mind that, Carroll.  I have some questions, I'll send them by later.  For now, this meeting is adjourned, Bruce, I'd like to speak with you alone."  After everyone but Bruce left, Lucius stood up, and began pacing as he talked.  "Look, Bruce, this has got to change.  Your father wanted you to be the next CEO of Wayne Enterprises, but you can't be if you continue to act like this.  I know you, Bruce.  You have a natural talent for this.  Why can't you tap into it?  Just try, and I think you'll surprise yourself; you might even enjoy it."

"Alright, Lucius, I'll try harder," Bruce answered, half-heartedly.

The Commissioner of the Gotham City police department, Aaron Nelson, sat in his office with the Vice Commissioner, James Gordon.  

"This is the arresting officer's report, Commissioner," Gordon said, "The evidence here is irrefutable."

"I know.  But it'll be a jury we have to convince.  Send a copy to the D.A. as well."

"Yes, Sir."

"Commissioner," Nelson's secretary said, "Mr. Willis to see you, Sir."  

"Thanks.  James, can you excuse me?"

"Yes, of course, Sir," Gordon said, leaving.  As he walked out, another man walked in.

"Hello, Commissioner."

"What is it this time, Willis?"

"I think you probably have a fair idea, Commish.  Atkins is innocent."  
"I don't believe that."

"Well, buddy, I'm sure you'd be the first to say that it doesn't matter what you believe, but how the jury finds."

"That's right."

"Well then, Commish, you need to see to it that the jury finds Atkins innocent."

Commissioner Nelson stood up behind his desk.  "Now you listen to me!  I'm tired of you, and Zucco, and the rest of your cowardly mob trying to push me around.  Nick Atkins is a murderer, a gutless, filthy murderer.  That's the truth, and I'm going to do everything in my power to see that that truth is discovered!"

"Let's don't be hasty, Commissioner," Willis said coolly.  "Atkins' life isn't the only one at stake here."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Look, Commissioner, you know Mr. Zucco pretty well.  You know he doesn't make 'threats.'  That would be below him.  If he wants to do something, he'll do it.  You remember that; Zucco does what Zucco wants.  You, or anybody else, isn't gonna stop him.  Capice?"

"I understand."

"Good.  You think about Atkins.  And you just remember that there are consequences for your actions.  Goodbye," the man said, walking out of the office.

**_Next issue, Batman faces off with the Joker, and Zucco makes a hit._**

****

**[I hope you liked this story.  Please feel free to review; I accept criticism.  Also read my work on FictionPress.com.]__**


	9. Issue 3: Shame On You, Section 1

**The Batman Casefiles**

**#3**

_July 30, 2003._

_I've been watching the Johnson & Clark law office for a week and a half.  The Joker hasn't made his move.  It's possible he found out I was on to him, although he hasn't committed a crime somewhere else.  It seems likely that's what he would do if he found me out, instead of just laying low.  But maybe tonight will be different.  _

Batman stood perched on a rooftop, crouching low.  It was night, but this area was well lit, and the Batman didn't want to find out what the public thought of him after a month of making infrequent appearances amongst the underworld.  Batman knew that his existence was little more than an urban myth among criminals, and he didn't want anyone, even those who were out at this time of night, to give wings to the rumor.  

He watched for a long time, patiently.  In previous nights he had waited for four or five hours.  He didn't leave until he knew that the crime wouldn't happen that night.  

And this night he was rewarded.  He saw a small car pull up in an alley perpendicular to 16th street.  Out of it stepped a man wearing a reddish-purple pinstripe suit.  Through the darkness it was hard to see, but as the man stepped into the light of a street-lamp, Batman noticed the astonishing bone white pallor of his skin.  He prepared to swing down, as he set off his trademark bat-howl.   The Joker and his lackey looked up just in time for the thug to see Batman's booted feet coming straight at him.  

The thug went down as Batman kicked him in the stomach.  The Joker took a haphazard shot, and then ran into the law office.  Batman followed after him.  When he got inside, the Joker had already made it through the lobby.  There were two doors there, one led to a closet, the other to the main office.  Batman dismissed the closet, figuring that unless the Joker was a total coward he wouldn't try to hide there.  He went toward the main office.  Opening the door, as he was stepping into the office, his foot caught a small wire set there.  The tripwire set off an explosive, but the amateur bomb was misdirected, and instead of exploding upward, it went down, causing the floor to cave in under Batman.  He fell down the hole, but managed to catch onto the floor, stopping the fall.  

But before he could pull himself up, the Joker reemerged from his hiding place and shot Batman.  His Kevlar protected him, but it made him lose his grip, and he fell down to the ground.  The Joker saw that Batman wasn't dead, and fired the other five bullets of his revolver.  Batman could feel a painful welt forming in the place each bullet hit, but as the Joker turned and retreated, Batman got up, and jumped, grabbing the broken basement ceiling.  He pulled himself back up to the main law office and saw that the Joker had once again disappeared.  He rushed to the window, thinking the Joker had escaped through that.  But the window was closed and locked.  

"Hm," Batman said, considering the situation, "He could've gone out the front, but…" Batman noticed a faint noise in office's walk-in closet.  "Maybe he's not above hiding in a closet."  Batman activated his night-vision lenses and opened the closet door.  He saw the Joker cowering in the corner.  He stepped warily toward him, when the door closed behind him and he heard a low hissing sound.  Reflexively he reached into one pouch of his utility belt.  He pulled out a small oxygen mask.  Out of another pouch came a small air tank, which he hooked up to the mask.

The Joker, lying crumpled in the corner, was first whimpering, then began laughing as the gas began to fill the room.  _Laughing gas, _Batman mused.  He breathed lightly with his artificial air supply, but knew it wouldn't last forever.  He stepped back and pounded a foot firmly into the door.  It shuddered, but held.  Batman kicked it again, and it went down.  

The Batman reached the back of the closet in one stride, and lifted up the Joker.  He carried him the few steps out of the large closet, and as he turned off his night vision lenses in the normal light, he saw what he already suspected.  The man now lying on the ground in front of him, shaking with forced laughter, was not the Joker, but Vinny, wearing stage makeup.  Batman looked up to see the real Joker step over the large hole in the floor.

"So, this is that mysterious dark creature that Vinny told me about," the Joker said, appraising his foe.  "Hm, you don't look ten feet tall.  I don't see any fangs either.  Oh well, it was dark.  What can you expect from a lowlife like him?"

"You know you can't win, Joker," Batman growled, after he had put his oxygen mask back in his belt.  "I'm putting a stop to your games."

"Games?" Joker asked, "How about card games?" Three playing cards appeared in the Joker's hand; the light reflected off of their razor-sharp edges.  In the same instant he threw them like ninja throwing stars at Batman.  Batman ducked and dove out of the way, pulling out a batarang.  He threw it and it sliced through one card, splitting it and making it fall harmlessly to the ground.  

"I've got one better," Batman said menacingly, as he moved toward the Joker.  "No more tricks, Joker," Batman moved toward the Joker, grabbing him by his pinstripe coat.

"The tripwire didn't work," the Joker said to himself, "the gas, the cards, what's left?"  A thought came to the Joker.  "Say, Bats, have you took a sniff at my flower?" He motioned toward the flower on his lapel.

"What?" Batman asked, sensing danger, but before he could react, he felt burning-hot acid shooting from the flower, through his costume, and into his skin.  He roared with pain, dropping the Joker, and falling to the ground.

"That old trick works every time," The Joker said, walking toward the door.  "Deal with him, Vinny."

"But, I shot him before.  He's bulletproof."

"It's just his costume, dopey.  Just shoot him were the acid burned it away, and it'll be bye-bye, Bats."

"Okay."  The Joker left, and Vinny pointed his gun at Batman.  Batman tensed, trying to move his hand.  Pain shot through it.

"You didn't listen," Batman said, his voice a harsh whisper.

"What?" Vinny asked, nervous.

"You told the Joker, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Vinny said, still pointing the gun and the prone crimefighter.  "I had to.  He would've figured it out, and then I would've been in trouble!"  
"You are in trouble.  I told you what he'll do to you.  He's gonna kill you, Vinny."

"No!"

"Count on it.  He's insane.  I can stop him, but only if I'm alive."

"I can't.  It's not smart to cross the Joker."

"You already did!" Batman rasped.  "You think he'll forget that?"

Vinny thought about it for a moment, and then pulled the trigger.  But even as his muscles tightened, Batman rolled out of the way, making the bullet hit his protected back instead.  He grunted as the pain of exertion rushed across his body, but he overcame it.  Pulling out a batarang, he threw it at Vinny's hand, making him drop the gun.  Roaring, feeling like his chest was on fire, he jumped forward and grabbed the hapless thug, knocking him out with a single punch to the face.

The Joker's other thug, behind the wheel of the Joker's car, turned, as they pulled to a stop at their hideout.

"Hey, Joker, you think Vinny got de Batman?"

"I suppose there's half a chance he didn't botch it up.  I don't think it's very likely, though.  That's just what happens when you double-cross the Joker."

"But I don't get it, boss.  Why didn't you stay and make sure dat Batman was out of de way?"

"Look at it this way.  If Vinny failed, right now he's on a one-way trip to the calaboose, with a minor detour to the hospital.  And I'd be going with him if I'd stayed."

**Continued…**

**[I hope you liked this story.  Please feel free to review; I accept criticism.  Also read my work on FictionPress.com.]**


	10. Issue 3: Shame On You, Section 2

                _August 11, 2003._

_What happened in the fight with the Joker was an important lesson for me to learn.  Losing.  The Joker played me like a fool.  Ten years of training will help against low-level thugs, but I'm gonna have to learn some things in the school of hard knocks.  Experience is an able teacher.  I gained a lot of it in that fight.  _

_Fortunately, I escaped with my life.  Despite that, Alfred, an accomplished physician, strongly suggested I take it easy for a while.  My costume took the brunt of the acid damage, but I had a large third-degree burn that was still healing.  I heal quicker than most, but for now I'm off of the streets.  Still, that doesn't mean I couldn't fight the Joker in a different way.  I needed to know where he was going to be striking next, and he needed a new lackey.  I could pave the way for that without putting on the costume._

"Surely you're not going out, Sir?" Alfred asked, intercepting Bruce in the Bat-cave.  "I thought I told you, you need rest."

"I also need to get work done," Bruce said, applying a fake moustache below his nose.  "Don't worry, no rope-swinging tonight," Bruce continued, adding a small goatee, and then combing blonde streaks through his hair.  "I'm going undercover tonight."  Bruce put on sunglasses to complement his leather jacket, and adopted the swagger of a more self-confident and immature twenty-four year old.

"Well, ah, um, don't stay out to late!" Alfred called, as Bruce drove away on his motorcycle.

Bruce stopped his motorcycle at one of the dirtier bars in Old Gotham.  It was a place that was a good meeting place for the kind of criminals he was looking for.  The kind that would be involved with the Joker.  He walked inside and lit a cigarette.  A man with long black hair noticed him immediately.  

"Hey," the man said, walking over to him.  "I've never seen you before.  People don't just come in to this bar uninvited."

"Name's Matches Malone.  I'm new here, looking for a job.  Thought this'd be the place to hear about one."

"Hey, hey.  This ain't the unemployment agency.  Rey, frisk 'em."  

A powerful-looking man came over, and Matches spread his arms, letting the man pat him down.  "Don't worry," Matches said dismissively.  "I'm not carrying a piece.  I don't need one."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, I can solve any problem you throw at me with just my fists."

The man seemed to take offense at first, but then he smiled.  "Confidence.  I like that.  My name's Jack Ramone.  I'll give you a chance before I prove you wrong at that.  Care for a drink?"

"No thanks, I can pay for my own," Matches said, holding up a wallet.

"Hey!" Rey yelled, "That's my wallet!"  Rey was about to throw a punch at Matches, but Jack held him back.  

"Did you lift his wallet?" Jack asked.

"Yep," Matches answered proudly, tossing the wallet back to Rey.  

"You didn't even see it coming, did you, Rey?"

"No.  It was clean."

"As much as I applaud your skill, Matches, you need to learn something.  You can rob my own mother, but you don't ever take anything from one of us, you understand?"  
"Yeah," Matches said, Bruce inwardly bracing himself for a confrontation.

"Since I'm such a nice guy, I'm not gonna have the whole gang put the hurt on you, an experience you probably wouldn't wake up from.  However, I give Rey permission to work you over to our way of thinking."  Rey moved slowly toward Matches, his fists raised.  "Nobody interfere," Jack said, as onlookers got out of close proximity to the fight.

Matches held up one fist in front of his face, in the style of a boxer, and positioned his other fist protectively in front of the burn on his chest.  Rey swung a fist, and Matches blocked it, replying with a jab to Rey's face.  Matches danced around to the side, when Rey turned, Matches grabbed his arm and twisted it in a wrestling hold.  Bruce considered playing with the guy, letting him go and putting another hold on him, but remembered he was "supposed to be resting."  He pivoted, taking Rey with him, and swept Rey's legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground.  The other people in the bar exclaimed as the tough man went down.  

Matches turned toward the bar, his back to Rey.  Rey got up, and moved to attack again, but just as he was about to make his move, Matches spun around and smashed a beer bottle on his head.  He went back down.

"So," Matches said, turning back to Jack.  "Anybody around here need a good hand?"

"I think I might be able to dig something up."  
                

**Continued…**

**[I hope you liked this story.  Please feel free to review; I accept criticism.  Also read my work on FictionPress.com.]**


	11. Issue 3: Shame On You, Section 3

_August 19, 2003._

_I went back to that bar last night, and, just as I'd planned, Jack Ramone told me that the Joker was looking for some help for a job he was gonna pull.  The Joker was being much more cautious after his run-in with Batman, so he wasn't in any hurry to pull the next job.  I thought he would pull it tonight, as it had already been past time for him to make another hit.  But Jack said to go to a certain warehouse a week from now, and that's how Matches would get connected with the Joker.  It was a good thing it didn't go down tonight, because I ended up having other business._

"Master Bruce!" Alfred yelled, at the foot of the stairs leading to the bat-cave.  "Master Bruce, I think you should come at once!"

Bruce, working out in the bat-cave's gym area, stopped and turned to Alfred.  "Why?  What's wrong?"

"It's your 'dear' aunt Harriet, Sir.  She has just gotten back from her monthly quilting society meeting, and she is in a rather bad temper.  One that is directed at you.  I feel that it would put you in an awkward position if she tore the house apart looking for you, and found you were not here."

"Well, I think I could probably come up with an excuse.  But I think I know what this is about, and I'll have to face the music.  My bedroom door is closed, right?"  

"As always, Sir."

"And she hasn't looked in there?"

"I believe not."

"Tell her that I'm taking a nap, and I'll be out shortly."

"Very good, Sir."

Bruce hurriedly wiped the sweat off of his face, and went to a secluded, narrow area of the cave.  He pulled a lever on the wall, and a rope ladder fell down.  He climbed up it, and at the top fingered a keypad, entering a code.  The correct code caused a panel in the wall to slide over, revealing Bruce Wayne's bedroom.  He stepped off the rope ladder, and into his room, the panel sliding closed behind him.  He pulled on a bathrobe, and then left his bedroom, adopting the appropriate demeanor for someone who just woke up from a nap.  He saw Aunt Harriet coming up the stairs, and moved toward her.  

"Hello, Aunt Harriet," he said, stifling a yawn.  "How was your, uh, quilt thingie?"

"Why, of all the nerve, Bruce!"

"What?  What's wrong?"

"Julie Madison is a part of my Quilt Society, and she told me how her date went!"

"Oh…"

"And to think that I told her you were a gentleman!"

"Well, I…"

"You didn't hold the door for her, or pull out her chair, you were rude and unsociable.  Why, you didn't even pick up the tab!"

"Separate checks was her idea."  
"Because she was afraid you'd pass the whole thing off on her, no doubt.  Why, if I ever hear of you treating a lady like that again, I'm just going to have to take you over my knee and spank you!"

"You're right, Aunt Harriet, and I'm sorry.  I was tired that night, and I wasn't myself.  I'll call her up and apologize."  
                

                _August 24, 2003._

_I surprise even myself sometimes.  I don't know what was going through my head when I called Julie that night.  I started out just apologizing, but before I knew it I had asked her out to dinner again, that very night.  I was further surprised by how much I enjoyed her company._

_But there are other, more important matters at hand.  Yesterday the local news reported that Police Commissioner Aaron Nelson turned up dead in his home.  Investigators aren't sure if it's murder, suicide or natural causes.  City Council chairman Tony Zucco, however, has taken this opportunity to stomp on the man's grave.  He raised questions about Nelson's investigation of trial-pending murderer Stephen Atkins, claiming misconduct on Nelson's part, and that of his staff.  Because of this, Assistant Commissioner James Gordon has not taken over as the interim Commissioner.  Zucco sited him as being involved in the misconduct, and he's on probation while another person, elected by Zucco's City Council, holds the position until another is elected, and is leading the misconduct investigation._

_Zucco's not a simple councilman.  He's a gangster, an underhanded chess-master who manipulates the goings on in this city.  The charges against Nelson and Gordon are a sham, and Zucco is using this to get his man Atkins out of a murder rap.  He must be stopped._

**_Next issue, the fight with the Joker is rejoined, and Batman sets his sights on Boss Zucco._**

**[I hope you liked this story.  Please feel free to review; I accept criticism.  Also read my work on FictionPress.com.]**


	12. Issue 4: He Who Laughs Last, Section 1

**The ****Batman**** Casefiles******

**#4: He Who Laughs Last**

_August 26, 2003._

_Tonight, I, in disguise as up-and-coming hood Matches Malone, will meet with a guy who agreed to help Matches find work…with the Joker.  I find it interesting that it's been almost a month since the last crime he tried to pull.  Before that one, where he was opposed by the Batman, he had been going at it about once a week.  I've only been Batman for almost two months.  Is it possible that my reputation has already built that much?  Maybe I'm already succeeding in deterring crime from happening, just by way of my fear-inspiring reputation.  Or maybe the Joker is just an insane coward.  We'll find out tonight._

Bruce Wayne, disguised with facial hair and blonde streaks, followed the instructions on the note given to him, telling him to be at a certain address at midnight.   He knocked on the door, but nobody answered.  He walked inside and found the place empty.

He wandered around the building, finding no one, but just as he was about to leave, someone appeared at the front door.

"Jack," Matches said.  "I thought I was gonna meet the Joker here."

"It's a security measure, to make sure you're not an undercover cop.  I've been checking outside to see if anyone followed you here.  Don't worry, it's just routine, man.  I don't think you're a cop.  We do this for everybody."

"Okay.  Now what?"

"I take you to the Joker."

A short drive later, Matches and Jack were standing face to face with the Joker, and his one remaining lackey.

"Well, hidey ho!" The Joker said gleefully.  "Is this the new help?"

"Name's Matches Malone," Matches said, offering his hand.  The Joker took it, and Matches felt a mild sensation.  Joker laughed as he turned his palm upward to reveal a joy buzzer.

"Lucky I had it on the low setting.  Now, I've got a joke for you," the white-faced man said, laughing.  "One time back in ancient Greece, Aesop was telling a story.  A man came up to him, and he said, 'What a great fable!'  Aesop look stunned and replied, 'That wasn't a fable, that was my life!'"  Joker frowned as Matches didn't even crack a smile at the jest, and then the Joker broke out laughing.  "Well, he knows a bad joke when he hears one!  You're hired."  The Joker shook Matches' hand again, giving him another mild shock with the joy buzzer, and then walked off.

"Hey," the other thug said, "You'll get used to him.  My name's Mel."  Matches just grunted, and then followed the Joker to a van.  

The Joker drove the van through the empty streets to a large, dimly lit building.  The van stopped, and he stepped out, followed by Mel and Matches.  

"This is it, boys," the Joker said, and then immediately went to work disabling an archaic security system that had wires outside of the building.  When that was finished, he broke the main door open.  His two lackeys were greeted by long, tall row upon long, tall row of boxes, endlessly stacked up, filling the entire building.  

"Looks like a warehouse," Mel said.  "What's in here, Joker?"

"Dishwashers!" The Joker said, laughing maniacally.  "Do you have any idea how much those things cost?  We're gonna steal as many dishwashers as we can fit in the van!  Hmm…they might have some computers and TV's, too."  The Joker walked down a long aisle, looking at the labels on the boxes.  "Not a dishwasher…not a dishwasher…not a dishwasher.  You two start on the next aisle and work your way out," the Joker shouted to his men as he kept searching.  "And tell me if you see any Hummel figurines, too!"

Matches and Mel began walking down the long aisle, looking for valuable items.  Matches waited until there were a few aisles between them and the Joker, and then he turned to the side and sucker-punched Mel.  Mel, never knowing what hit him, went down with one more blow to the face.  Reaching into the pocket of his large coat, he pulled out a very small time bomb and set it.

Matches, acting frantic, ran to the Joker.  "Joker!  It's the Batman!"

"What?" The Joker said, spinning around fearfully.

"It is!  I saw him," Matches said, breathing hard.  "He took out Mel!"

The Joker stood, anxiously listening.  A few moments later, he heard the explosion from the bomb.  "He is here!  Well don't just stand there, go find him!"  The Joker shooed Matches away, and then started to slink slowly toward the door.  

Matches stopped two aisles away, and then took out from under his coat Batman's utility belt, and a pair of night-vision goggles.  He took off the coat as he slipped on the goggles, and then ran quietly to the light switch and flipped it off.  Complete darkness shrouded the building.  With no light outside, the open exit disappeared from sight.  Matches grunted, as if in pain, loud enough for the Joker to hear.  He threw some boxes to the ground.

"Matches?" He heard the Joker say from across the expansive room.  "Mel?  Anyone?"

"No, Joker," Batman said, in a loud, harsh voice.  "It's just you and me now."  Batman looked around, trying to find the Joker.  Climbing up a shelf, standing atop a tall pile of boxes, he had a better view of the building.  He finally located the Joker, stumbling around blindly, flailing his arms, looking for the exit.  

Batman leapt to another shelf, and thus made his way toward the Joker.  When he was just above the Joker, he took out a batarang and threw it.  The Joker heard the _whiff _of air, and then the noise of the batarang cutting into a box near him.  Before he could do anything, Batman had jumped down from his perch, in a flying kick.  The Joker was on the ground and handcuffed almost before the pain of the kick registered in his brain. 

**Continued…**

**[I hope you liked this story.  Please feel free to review; I accept criticism.  Also read my work on FictionPress.com.]**

**_Author's Note: You may have noticed that this hasn't been updated in a while.  As much as I enjoy this story, I've begun another project, which will start to be shown here on FanFiction.net on September 2nd.  I won't stop writing The Batman Casefiles, but the updates to this tremendously fascinating story will be fewer.  Thanks for reading, and I hope you stick with it despite the slower pace._**


	13. Issue 4: He Who Laughs Last, Section 2

_September 19, 2003._

The old man turned his bed light on.  Was that really a noise he had heard, or was it just his imagination?

"What's wrong?" his wife asked sleepily as the light woke her up.  

"Uh, nothing," the man said.  "I just wanted to get a drink of water.  Go back to sleep."  He waited until she was asleep again and then picked up a lead pipe.  He crept out of the room, and then stood listening.

Yes, there was definitely something out there.  The noise was faint, but the man had very good hearing, even at his age.  The floorboards in his house were old, and creaked just like in haunted houses and horror movies.  As the old man started moving slowly towards the front of his house, he felt like he was in such a movie.  

As he got to the kitchen, he reached for the light switch.  A shock ran up his spine as he felt his arm being held tightly in a cold grip.  He brought the lead pipe down quickly, but it was blocked, and soon torn from his grasp.  The man gasped as he looked in front of him and saw what looked like two white, featureless eyes that almost glowed.  Surrounding them was the dim, shadowy outline of a man, the silhouette interrupted by the strange shape of his cape and cowl.

"What do you want?" The man whispered, struggling for breath.  He felt like he was going to have a heart attack.

"Tell me what you know about Zucco," the cold, grave voice responded.

"Zucco?  Never heard of anyone by that name."

"Yes," Batman said, his grip tightening on the man's arm.  "You have."

"No, please.  Leave me alone!" He started to get frantic, and fearful.

"Tell me," the voice demanded.

"No!  I can't.  Zucco'll hurt me, kill me!  Nothing you can do to me would be as bad as what he'll do!"

Batman leaned toward the old man, the white slits over his eyes inches from the man's face.  "Try me."

"Look, my wife's back there in the bedroom.  I've got grandchildren.  Zucco'll kill them all if I tell you anything.  Just leave me alone!"

_September 29, 2003._

_Tony Zucco's puppet Commissioner, Luke McGuinness, has been stalling for a month now, shuffling his feet.  He knows he can't produce real evidence against Nelson and Gordon (well, he's pretty much dropped the case against Nelson, realizing that going after a dead man doesn't get the public on his side).  But, just recently, as I expected, McGuinness produced fake evidence.  _

_Meanwhile, I'm having trouble finding evidence against McGuinness.  Zucco is nothing if not good at covering his tracks.  Nobody is willing to tell Batman anything.  As loath as I am to admit it, Zucco inspires more fear in the hearts of Gothamites than Batman does.  But, if I can get my hands on some documentation of this fake evidence against Gordon, I'll know what it is and how to contest it._

It was night.  James Gordon stood with his hands in the pockets of his deep trenchcoat, on the roof of the Gotham City Police building.  His graying hair blew in the stiff wind.  Gordon liked to go up on the roof whenever he could.  It was quiet there, a good place to think, and relax.  When he had a hard case, going up to the roof often helped him think it through.

He had a hard case this time, but this time the case was against him.  Gordon knew he wasn't guilty, and most of the officers working on the case against also knew it.  They were just doing their job, and he would personally attest to a lot of them being good men.  It was this new Commissioner that was causing the trouble.  McGuinness was no one that should've been in charge of any investigation, and especially not the ongoing investigation against Nick Atkins, whose murder trial was still pending.  Gordon was confidant that McGuinness would botch the investigation, and Gordon had a feeling McGuinness wouldn't be sorry about it.  

Of course, Commissioner Nelson hadn't expected a bed of roses when they arrested Atkins.  He was a man that could get Tony Zucco into a lot of trouble if convicted, so it was only natural that Zucco would pull such underhanded tactics to get Atkins off.  But Gordon never thought he himself would be the victim, or that he would end up behind bars.

Behind bars.  Locked up.  Imprisoned.  Gordon had been responsible for seeing many men thrown in jail, and at times he wasn't fully confident that these people were guilty.  But the justice system had spoken, and James Gordon believed in the American justice system.  But if Gordon was put in jail in trade for Atkins, there was no doubt in his mind that the justice system would have been perverted.  The question was; was there even anything that Gordon could do about it?

Gordon looked out into the night, and blinked.  Flying in the night sky, his cape unfurled behind him like two bat-wings, was a man.  Gordon looked harder, hoping the man would fly into a better-lit area.  _Is that the Batman that we've been hearing all this buzz about?_ Gordon wondered.  The flying man was cut off from view as he went lower, and Gordon raced to the edge of the building to see if he could locate him again.  But he had disappeared.  

**Continued…**

**[I hope you liked this story.  Please feel free to review; I accept criticism.  Also read my work on FictionPress.com.]**


	14. Issue 4: He Who Laughs Last, Section 3

Batman landed gently on the narrow ledge of the GCPD building, facing the window into Commissioner McGuinness' office.  Reaching into the lining of his left glove, he took out a glasscutter, and began cutting out the window.  He finished, and removing the glass, placed it carefully on McGuinness' desk, not wanting to risk someone hearing the sound of it breaking.  

Running to the door, he turned the lock.  Then he searched, hurriedly but thoroughly, and soon found what he was looking for.  He was flipping through the document when he heard someone trying to turn the doorknob.  He put the document under his arm, and ran to the window.

Acting Commissioner Luke McGuinness put the key in the lock, wondering who locked up his office, and then opened the door.  He walked in, and in very short order noticed the pane of glass sitting on his desk.  Looking to the window, he realized what happened.  He turned back to his desk, trying to figure out if anything was moved or misplaced.  After a few moments, he realized what it was that the burglar had come for.

He picked up the phone and began dialing.  He looked again to the window, and then did a double take.  It seemed, as he looked, that something was moving in the sky.  It looked something, in the dark, like a giant bat.

"Hello?" The voice on the other end said, with consternation.

"Boss, this is McGuinness.  Somebody broke in to my office."

"And?" Zucco prodded, knowing there was a greater reason for the call.

"He took the file on the Gordon investigation."

"There's nothing incriminating in there, right?" Zucco asked, his voice rising.

"No, of course.  But whoever took that file must be interested in clearing Gordon,"

"Which would flush Atkins down the toilet."

"Yeah.  What do we do?"  
"Speed things up a little," Zucco answered.  "I'll call the judge and get the warrant.  You get some "witnesses" to testify against Gordon.  And make their stories good.  Just because we're moving quicker doesn't mean we're being careless."

"Yes, of course, Sir."

"No mistakes, McGuinness.  No mistakes."

Zucco hung up the phone, and promptly dialed another number.  

"Hello, Judge, this is Zucco."

"Yes, Sir, what do you need?"

"I need a warrant for the arrest of James Gordon, on Criminal Misconduct charges."

"I'll do it right away, Sir," the judge said meekly.

"Good.  You know what happens if you don't."

Alfred Pennyworth walked through the Study of Wayne Manor, toward the clock that hid the entrance to the Bat-cave.  Just as he was about to open it, he heard Bruce's Aunt Harriet walk in the room.

"Alfred," she asked, "What are you doing up so late?"

With a magician's dexterity he produced a dust cloth.  "Just a little cleaning and dusting, Ms. Cooper."  
"Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"I could ask the same of you," Alfred said lightly as he began to dust the grandfather clock.  

"Well, you know how I get when I'm reading a good book," Harriet said, dropping onto a chair.  "I just can't put this one down.  And the furniture in this room is so comfortable, I thought this would be the perfect place to finish it."  
"Well, don't let me get in your way, Ma'am."

                _Later…_

Batman looked up as Alfred entered the cave.

"I've been waiting for you," Batman said, his voice echoing through the cavern.

"Awfully sorry, Sir.  It was your Aunt Harriet once again; she insisted on reading in the very Study where the entrance to this cave is.  I thought she would never finish that book."

"Well, anyway," Bruce said, turning back to the file he had taken from the Commissioner's office, "I got this document on the case against Assistant Commissioner Gordon."

"I'm sure it was delightful reading, Sir."

"Quite, at least when you compare it to information on the Atkins case."

"Pardon me, Master Bruce, but I'm not quite up to speed on that case either."

"Nick Atkins is a hitman," Batman explained.  "He made a hit on someone, who the police think had been working for Tony Zucco.  Zucco probably hired Atkins to kill the guy because he crossed Zucco.  Atkins shot him with a sniper rifle.  The police investigating the scene of the crime found the bullet, and when they raided Atkins home, they found a sniper rifle of the same caliber.  Ballistics tests prove that the bullet was fired from Atkins' gun."

"Ah, I see.  I believe I am up to speed now, Sir.  Please continue."

"Okay, so what McGuinness is saying is that the bullet found at the scene was not even from the same _type _of gun, and police had no reason for arresting Atkins.  Further, says McGuinness, there was no ballistics testing done at all."

"But wouldn't a lot of people on the police force have been privy to those tests?"

"That's where it really gets wild.  McGuinness is saying that Gordon is at the helm of a large conspiracy to take revenge on Atkins, a former policeman.  Everybody who was involved in the tests, he claims is a part of the conspiracy."

**_Of course there's a conspiracy going on, but Gordon isn't the one behind it.  Next issue, James Gordon has his first meeting with the Batman._**

**[I hope you liked this story.  Please feel free to review; I accept criticism.  Also read my work on FictionPress.com.]**


	15. Issue 5: Cleaning Up, Section 1

**The Batman Casefiles**

**#5: Cleaning Up**

                _October 5, 2003._

_Last week, I broke into Acting Commissioner Luke McGuinness' office, and found the file that detailed his case against Assistant Commissioner Gordon.  The charge is misconduct in a case that Gordon and the late Commissioner Nelson were leading against a hitman named Nick Atkins.  Atkins killed someone with a sniper rifle; police found the bullet at the scene of the crime, and traced it back to Atkins through ballistics testing.  However, Acting Commissioner McGuinness claims that the bullet was from a different weapon, and that ballistics testing was fabricated.  He charges that everyone who claims to have been involved in the ballistics test is part of a conspiracy to frame Nick Atkins._

"I don't believe you, Commissioner," the District Attorney said, glaring at McGuinness.

"The evidence is all here, Mr. Dent," McGuinness responded calmly.  "Clear as the nose on your face."

"It doesn't seem very clear to me.  I mean, as much as you can cry 'conspiracy,' people just don't make up ballistics tests.  And why would all these people fabricate this evidence against Atkins?"

"Do you know what Nick Atkins used to do for a living?"  
D.A. Dent sighed, starting to see where McGuinness was going with the question.  "He was a policeman."

"Yeah.  Let me draw your attention to another former cop.  I'm sure you remember Mel Slocum?"

"Yeah, I was the prosecutor in that lowlife's trial."

"Then you know that 'lowlife' was found innocent.  The evidence against him was just too thin."

"Or maybe Tony Zucco just used crooked legal wrangling and PR to get him off!"

"Or maybe not," McGuinness said, happy that Dent was losing his temper and he himself was in control.  "I believe that these two cases are linked, that the police force as a whole has decided to seek vengeance against these two innocent men.  And the evidence backs me up.  All Gordon has on Atkins is a bullet that doesn't even match his gun.  Do you call that legal wrangling?  I don't.  I call it lack of evidence and Criminal Misconduct.  Now, are you going to conduct the trial against Gordon to the best of your abilities or…" McGuinness stopped, drawing it out.

"Or what?" Dent snarled, "You'll say I'm part of the conspiracy?"

"Are you?"

"Of course not!  There is no conspiracy."

"I say there is.  And if you want to be the District Attorney much longer, you'd better do your job."

"I'll do my job, McGuinness," Dent said, ignoring the title of Commissioner.  "But my job involves finding the truth.  I think you're hiding something, and just because it's my job to prosecute James Gordon for you doesn't mean I won't do all I can to find it."

  
_Shortly after I broke into McGuinness' office, Assistant Commissioner Gordon was arrested.  He posted bail almost immediately, but his arrest was enough to get Nick Atkins out, for the time at least.  McGuinness can't hold up this three-ring circus much longer.  It's obvious to me that he simply took the real evidence against Atkins and probably has it hidden somewhere.  Once it's found, everything will come crashing down on him._

McGuinness picked up the phone after only one ring.  He knew who it was.

"McGuinness, I thought I told you to speed this thing up.  Why hasn't Gordon's case gone to trial?  You shouldn't have let him post bail, either."

"Yes, Sir, I know, Sir, but there are some things that are just out of my control."

"Don't let this get out of your control, McGuinness," Zucco said, his tone that of a cold threat.  "Are you _sure _that no one will find what you concealed?"

"Yes.  Gordon's evidence is hidden in the false bottom of my desk."  
"You fool!" Zucco yelled.  "Don't say it out loud.  Anyone could be listening!  Don't blow this, do your hear me?"  
"Yes, Sir.  I've got it under control, Sir.  Don't worry about it."

"You're the one that would have cause to worry if you fail, McGuinness."

_Zucco is right; anyone could be listening.  Like the Batman, for instance.  When I broke into McGuinness' office, I bugged his office and his phone line.  I heard the entire conversation.  That was the only mistake necessary to bring the case against Gordon down.  All I have to do is get this information to the right person._

            **Continued…**

**[I hope you liked this story.  Please feel free to review; I accept criticism.  And don't miss my other works here on Fanfiction.net!]**


	16. Issue 5: Cleaning Up, Section 2

_October 7, 2003._

James Gordon went up to the roof of the Gotham PD building once again.  He hadn't been up there very much since he was bailed out of jail, and never at this time so late in the day.  It was too cold to be standing out for very long, but he really needed to think.  His trial would be coming up in a few days, and he wasn't sure how it was going to go.  Sure, he knew that the truth was on his side, but Zucco's diabolical machinations seemed to have the upper hand to the truth this time.  Somehow, Acting Commissioner McGuinness had spirited away not only the bullet from Atkins' gun, but also the documentation of the ballistics test.  This he knew, but without proof, it was all just an exercise in futility.

"I know where your evidence is."  
Gordon spun around, jumping back at the sight of the large shadow in front of him.  It had spoken to him, but he wasn't sure what it said.  He tried to stealthily reach for his gun.

"W-what?" Gordon asked.

"I know where the evidence that McGuinness took from you is," Batman answered calmly.

"How do you know that?"  
Batman ignored the question.  "It's concealed inside a hidden area of his desk."  
"Why should I believe you?"

"Because you want the truth.  It's your decision."

Gordon looked up at the night sky, considering what the shadow had said.  He looked down, about to ask another question, but the caped figure had disappeared.  Gordon ran to the edge of the roof, looking for any sign of the man, but there was none.  He shook his head in disbelief, almost wondering if it had been a dream, and then he went inside.

_October 9, 2003._

_Assistant Commissioner Gordon took my advice, and found the evidence that proved not only Nick Atkins' guilt, but Luke McGuinness' as well. McGuinness quickly made bail, but I don't think there's much chance that even Zucco can get him off of this one.  Although, chances are just as likely that McGuinness will go State's Witness to save his own hide.  That would be very harmful to Zucco, which reminds me there's some unfinished business I may have already waited too long to take care of._

Luke McGuinness sat in his home uneasily, trying to watch television.  He knew that, one way or the other, his mistake in dealing with Atkins and Gordon would cost him dearly.  He wasn't sure how; either Zucco would hurt him, or he would be in prison for years, or both.

Suddenly, McGuinness heard a noise.  Was somebody in his house?  He turned to the doorway, and saw the dim, shadowy outline of a man.  The dim light from the TV wasn't enough to make out his features.  McGuinness saw the silhouette of the man's hand reach for the light-switch, and turn it on.

"Nick Atkins," McGuiness said, instantly recognizing the man in the full light.  

"Yeah, hey, by the way, thanks for getting me out of jail."  McGuinness saw Atkins raise a gun, and then he saw no more.

                _About fifteen minutes later…_

Batman cruised to a stop on his motorcycle at Luke McGuinness' house, and quickly got off, sensing trouble.  He looked around the street to make sure no one was out, and then stealthily moved toward the front door.  As if to confirm his apprehension, the door was ajar, unlocked.

"This isn't good," Batman said grimly, already knowing what he would see.  He crept inside into McGuinness' living room, and found, bathed in the light of the television, McGuinness himself, lying back in his chair, dead.

"Too late."

            **Continued…**

**[I hope you liked this story.  Please feel free to review; I accept criticism.  And don't miss my other works here on Fanfiction.net!]**


	17. Issue 5: Cleaning Up, Section 3

_October 16, 2003._

_The whole mess with Gordon, Atkins and McGuinness has all been wrapped up.  James Gordon is now able to take his deserved place as Acting Commissioner until one can be elected next month.  He's running, although with what happened recently, Tony Zucco is sure to oppose him vehemently.  _

_Thanks to my failure in stopping Nick Atkins from killing McGuinness, Zucco got off squeeky-clean.  Without McGuinness to testify against him, Zucco just claimed that he had nothing to do with it, that he voted to make McGuinness Acting Commissioner because three other council members lied to him about McGuinness' qualifications.  Those three are under investigation now.  It's probably just as well; it's likely they were working for him anyway.  I'm sure he wouldn't hesitate to crucify three of his puppets to save himself.  He'll probably get three more.  Of course, I have recorded proof that Zucco was involved with McGuinness, but even if I gave it to Acting Commissioner Gordon, nobody would accept Batman's word.  After all, it is getting easier to forge audio conversations these days._

_Despite the fact that I did fail to some extent in the McGuinness matter, I'm glad that it's over, and that I can get back to the Old Gotham section of town.  That's been my main concern since coming back to Gotham City.  As much as other things become a necessity, cleaning up the rat-infesting, rusting-over streets of Old Gotham is more important to me._

_When I was nine years old, my father started a relief program to help bring Old Gotham back to its former glory.  The tall spires and grand Victorian architecture speak to the fact that this large chunk of the city was once its crowning jewel, and my father wished that it could be brought back up, if only a little, from the waste-dump that it is now.  _

_But he was killed before he could realize that dream, and when budget cuts came around, Lucius Fox got rid of the program, not understanding its importance.  But Thomas Wayne had a son, and maybe I can do something for this tired old beat-up section of town._

Batman was perched on a gargoyle statue, jutting out from a rooftop in Old Gotham.  Listening intently, he heard a noise.  Batman identified the sound as that of a van; the kind of van that he had heard regularly in his three and a half months patrolling Old Gotham.  The kind of van someone might use to load stolen goods, or illegal weapons.  Batman threw a batarang, catching the edge of a higher building's roof, and swung away.  

Landing on another dark rooftop, Batman sited in his night-vision lenses the van that he had heard, as well as three burly men loading large boxes into it.  He had seen this too many times before to even question whether this was an honest business; honest businesses don't load merchandise in the middle of the night into a nondescript van.

Batman turned on the bat-howl device and swung down.  The criminals looked up to see the shadowy crimefighter flying toward them.

"Look!" The frightened thugs said, "It's him!"

"The Batman!  He's real!"

Batman landed on the ground and stood surveying the toughs.  It appeared as if they might give up without a fight, but then a shot sounded behind him, and impacted against Batman's Kevlar-laced costume.  The hit propelled him forward, and into a pile of thick boxes.

"Maybe he ain't so inhuman after all," the fourth thug said, coming out of his hiding place.  "Come on, everyone in the van, let's go."

"What if he wakes up?  Shouldn't we make sure he's dead?"  
"If he wakes up, I don't want to be around for it.  Let's get while the getting's good!"  The four men piled into the van, but as they did, Batman rose with a groan and leapt onto the back of the van, hanging on fiercely as the vehicle sped forward.  

Gripping the van's back door handle with only one hand, Batman reached into his utility belt and grabbed a batarang.  He threw it at a tire, piercing it, and causing the van to slow down.  Not until he threw a second batarang at the other rear tire did the van come to a stop.  Batman flipped back off of the van, and stood ready for the oncoming fight.

The two thugs who had gotten in the back of the van came out lazily, annoyed at what they thought was bad luck in getting a flat tire.  Batman took them out easily with the element of surprise on his side.  The driver and passenger heard the noise, and came out with their guns raised.  Batman ducked and threw a batarang at one as he rolled out of the way of the fire.  Withdrawing into a pitch-dark part of the poorly lit street, Batman waited, patiently.  

The thug also waited, not wanting to go into the darkness and challenge the Batman.  Finally he decided that Batman had left, so he turned his back toward the van.  Instantly Batman reemerged.  The thug swung around as Batman leapt at him, growling like an angry beast, and took the frightened thug down quickly.

**Continued…**

**[I hope you liked this story.  Please feel free to review; I accept criticism.  And don't miss my other works here on Fanfiction.net!]**


	18. Issue 5: Cleaning Up, Section 4

_October 21, 2003._

"Hey, Julie, how are you doing?"

"Hey, Bruce, nice to see you," Julie Madison responded.

"You look nice today."

"Thanks, you too."

"So," Bruce said, looking around the large movie set.  "This is where you work, huh?"  
"Yeah, this is where we're shooting most of the scenes from the movie."

"What's it called again?"

"It's called 'Terror in the Hills.'"

"So what is it that makes this movie different than all the other slasher flicks?"

"Well, it's not really a slasher film, although it does subscribe to some of the genre's clichés.  It's about a group of college students who are taking a vacation in an old cabin in the woods,"  
"That's one cliché," Bruce said lightly.

"Hey, I didn't say it was perfect.  Anyway, 'The Terror' lures them out into the forest, and then he just plays with them.  As hard as they try to escape, he's always behind the next tree, threatening with his long, curved knife."

"Another cliché."

"Maybe from the real old movies.  But to answer your question, the thing that makes it different from other horror movies is that none of the students get killed.  The movie just explores the psychological effect of being taunted and toyed with, trapped in a forest in the middle of nowhere, with a knife-wielding maniac at your heels."

"Interesting."

"Hey, look," Julie said, pointing to a man standing a few yards away.  "That's Brad Carlin, the guy that plays The Terror."  The man saw Julie and waved.  
"He seems to be pretty fond of you," Bruce said, with mock jealousy in his voice.

"Yeah, I think he has a thing for me, but he's way too old for me.  I can't stand him; he's really rude.  Come on, you want me to show you around the place?"  
"Sure."

The two went through the set, walking and talking.  They stopped, their tour finished, when they came to the snack table.

"That's the thing about working on a movie," Julie said, taking a soggy-looking sandwich.  "The food isn't that good."  
"You should try Aunt Harriet's cooking," Bruce said, "She loves having guests.  How about this Saturday?"

"The twenty-fourth?  I'm busy.  But I'm free the Saturday after that."

"Good!  It's a date, then."

Neither of them were aware that Brad Carlin was around the corner, listening.

"Next Saturday," he said, a shadow of evil crossing his face.

                _October 31, 2003._

Bruce and his Aunt, Harriet Cooper, greeted Julie Madison as she entered the grand halls of Wayne Manor.  They exchanged pleasantries for a while, and then she sat down beside Bruce at the large dining table, as Alfred began serving the meal Aunt Harriet had made.

None of them were aware of a man outside, watching them, fingering a long, curved knife.

**                _Just how bad can an actor playing a horror movie villain be?  Find out next issue._**

**[I hope you liked this story.  Please feel free to review; I accept criticism.  And don't miss my other works here on Fanfiction.net!]**


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